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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22462726">Yoga</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illogomachy/pseuds/Illogomachy'>Illogomachy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Original work - Freeform, Second Person, Short, Transformative, Werewolves, Whimsy, Yoga, detached second person, loose concept of consciousness, musings, prompt, trans analogy from a trans author</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:00:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22462726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illogomachy/pseuds/Illogomachy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>CORVIDPROMPTS:</p>
<p>“Now,” the yoga teacher claps xir hands together. “I’m sure many of you were bullied into attending by family or medical professionals. Don’t worry, so was I.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Yoga</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Check out my Tumblr: https://verticalguppies.tumblr.com/<br/>Check out my Fiverr: https://www.fiverr.com/apollo_f?up_rollout=true</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Now,” The Instructor claps their hands together. “I’m sure many of you were bullied into attending by family or medical professionals. Don’t worry, so was I.” A chuckle rolls through the humid room, a mix of forty-somethings with nothing else to do and depressed twenty-year-olds, all sprawled on an array of colourful mats, centred around The Instructor who dominates the middle of the room. You are new here; bullied by a medical professional, or family, you suppose. Told to get out of the house more, to be healthier, to try it for peace of mind. The reason you’re here isn’t important, or at least, you don’t think so.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>The Instructor leads the room through some beginning stretches, to work out the kinks in your limbs, to get your muscles ready; there’s a few swears and cracks and stunted giggles while you all settle into your new shapes. A relaxing enough atmosphere- enough that you feel comfortable here, comfortable enough to let go of your glued-on grimace-smile and relax.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It started to warm up inside pretty quickly; all those sweaty bodies moving along and trying to imitate the idol on the pedestal, so to speak. You’re fairly certain spines aren’t meant to curve like that, and knees don’t really bend that way, but nobody’s yelling and once you’re in the groove, your body almost wants to move like that! It’s freeing, the stretch, the snap; the way your body folds itself into the shapes The Instructor guides you into.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s definitely a work out. You must be burning so many calories! It’s exactly like what your sister-brother-doctor-therapist-mother-father described. It feels good, It feels fresh. Like you’d been trapped in a stiff mannequin this whole time, and now you’d burst free. You had thought the hype was fake, but maybe, just maybe, there was something behind this?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something behind the gentle reshaping of your own flesh, that is; the change that sweeps over you. The burst of fur you’re guided towards, and the sharp teeth; the way colour fades and smell takes over, resplendent and displaying the world to you in a whole new way. The way the twenty-forty-sixty something’s fold into the same consciousness, almost, a hyper mess of new senses and fresh outlooks, pelts in so many shades, soft and rough, the smell of pine-maple-oak, snow-sand-dirt, river-lake-ocean. The Instructor leads the new group from the room, out into the woods behind the building. The procession is a mess of yipping-barking-sniffing, but The Instructor is used to new beasts and their particularities.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The hunt is good, the run better still, and the camaraderie - you’d never felt so connected before. Yes, this was good; long lost was the depression-wheezing-sore legs-stress. For just this hour, your life was soft-rough, lake-river, pine-oak and everything between; it was good, fresh, loose. It reminded you of when you were younger, when you were older, transcended the thought of age and distance. The night was yours, and you would take it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>–</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Receptionist smiles, when you all return, leaves in your hair and dirt on your clothes, sheepishly, to collect your belongings. She’s been working here a long time. She knows how it is, for the first timers; she knows how it is for everyone. Just like The Instructor instructed, she Received; already, she had your belongings packed into neat little gym-branded bags, complementary, with little flyers of the new lessons to expect next week.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe next week, you’ll try swimming?</p>
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